There were four men
searching for truth
They all knew
that sixteen hundred years before
Someone was asked
by a washing hands' man
to say what was the truth.
One of them
is on the tower of Pisa
which is still bending
since then
'cause he refused
to declare the earth is flat
to the clergy men
to the rappers of truth
Several miles away
another one is convicted
by other false truth holders
he has lost his wife
he's lost his goods
he's lost his freedom
and he's Lost Paradise
And Torquato
has been serving
for seven years through
in a madhouse
for his poetry was full of truth.
The fourth man lies
straight and tall
in the middle of a square
where his unfortunate harsh
took the place of the flowers
He seems to warn the passing-bys:
"Please, mind the truth!"
My perception of the world is illusory art
The darkness is absolute
Women suffering violent abuse
From the one who said, “I do.”
Men and women pushing dope
To innocent souls searching for hope
Carjacking, kidnapping, and kids without a father
Rape, fraud, human trafficking and manslaughter
Women tearing down each other and disrespecting their mothers
Men trample over society causing everyone to suffer
Shackles, chains; imprisoned in the brain
Depression and suicide
The world is insane
Neglected children needing somewhere to hang
“Hey Lil’ Bro come join our gang.”
There in the wake lies the devil’s den
Next level self-destruction surrounded by sin
Drive-bys, Do or die
We are brothers Fam
Lay down yo’ Life
“Do it for the homies, don’t let down the tribe!!”
Now you have a teardrop
For all the bodies that dropped
The executioner's face stays hidden
The judge handed you a sentence
Yet, you hold your head up high
Beaming with empty-headed pride
Because you didn’t snitch
On the one who left skeletons in a ditch
Their crimes stay hidden
The Hood Tale legend
“You can never get out!”
Written by Sherry B
@2024
I've left it alone.
If for no other reason,
Then it takes to much to justify.
Every time.
I've touched on it with my loved ones,
Gone over it with friends,
Conversed with colleagues
and poured over it with the passer-bys.
But as I drove my car over the bridge,
I decided - I'll leave it alone.
It's nothing to do with me anyway.
Through Covid-19, school closings and quarantines
Online learning, Google Hangouts, Shelter in place
Missing our students and friends from our work place.
Wondering what will happen next- It’s all so complex.
Tears cried, Lives lost, Birthday drive bys, Virtual Celebrations,
Mask, Gloves bringing heightened considerations
Of Frontline workers,
Lives changed, schedules rearranged,
Social distancing, online worshipping, parking lot services
Six feet apart, air hugs,
Glasses fogged, Hours online logged,
Jobs lost, restaurants closing, Door Dashes, people clashing
Over -“Is it too much –or- Are we doing enough---to stop the spread?
Families staying, at home, praying, people healed, emotions real, movies watched,
Games played, memories made
Through thick and thin from the beginning to the end
For Christ Followers,
Our Faith, our trust, our belief in God
Does NOT Bend!!!
Unfailing, Unwavering, Unshakeable Faith
In the midst of the fires
At the cool of the dawn
Climbing virtuous spirals
Nature's harvest stored in a farm
I rise my spirit high
Praising those sweet by an bys
1/1/21
By James Edward Lee Sr
Carnage at churches & clubs
Mass shootings at concerts & malls
Massacres at schools & theaters
Our children walkout today
Peacefully protesting gun violence
Background checks for all
Bump stock elimination
Military weapons ban
Commonsense gun reform
What our students are fighting for
People dying needlessly
Drive-bys occurring daily
Innocents gunned down in the streets
We need gun safety taught nationwide
Rallying for the wellbeing of U.S. all
I watch the wind as it
rakes through the corn field
Watching all the stalks
sway back and forth
Kindly waving to the
passer-bys
It's outstretched husks
with silk strung like gold
stand their ground
I hear a whistling
as one corn stalk
talks to another
their conversation
Blowing in the wind
Each rustle of their leaves
is a hand shake
Blowing in the wind
What else wood you
stumble upon in a corn field
blowing in the wind?
It seems like a lark
And the giggles abound
And the parties and excess
Of fools must be found
There’s no time for hard issues
Or things of the heart
Because don’t you know
There’s a game we must start.
Has many cool levels
And weapons galore
And warriors and zombies
Like never before
And blood flows like water
And time just flies by
Not missing the outdoors
Or spring, no not I.
There’s time enough later
For training and work
But what are the chances
The world’s gone berserk
With terror and drive-bys
And government spin
And no one admits
All the debt we are in.
I’d rather be laughing
I’d rather be high
I’d rather be gaming
Than dutifully dry.
This life’s really short
Holding nothing beyond
So bring on the laughter
Before I am gone.
Note: We have little idea how many young people are stuck on this destructive, desensitizing, hopeless treadmill. No honest exchange. No real friendships. No workable skills. No sense of purpose. No hope of Heaven. And we think we are showing love by buying their approval with more of the same.
I Hate Poetry
I really dislike poetry
certainly and honestly do
deliberate obscurantism
damn words, don't you know
whinging exultations
agonising extremes
low language of life
love and loss themes
free verse especially
a cop out I'd suspect
debility of mind
the dearth of intellect
why even bother
you depressive waste of time
we have all loved or lost
so cease your spurious crying
speak thee in happy note
flowers and flutter bys
warming sun on warming limbs
smiles and morning skies
We are the neighbors
Who live down your street
We are the ones
Who your kids love to hate
We are the ones who actually sit outside
Watching our children while they are at play
Making sure all of the children
On the street are behaved
To many drive-bys by gangs
Over drugs and money and loot
Never caring before firing
They just load up their guns and they shoot
Sexual offenders on every block
Hiding behind their closed doors
They're watching and waiting
For their next victim to lure
They say it takes a village to raise a child
That's why we must all protect every one
Despite of our color, religions, or political views
We must come together, stop looking for an excuse
I watch after your children while you are away
I'm hoping as a parent for me you'd do the same
We'll never always see eye to eye it's the truth
But the protection of the children should always be first
So when your kids run to you saying I was mean
Just know they were up to trouble hoping it unseen
I spotted it and stopped it before a disaster could strike
Because as a parent, I'd save any child's life
"Look at the old lady over there
She’s ugly, mean and grumpy too”
Sneered the passer-bys on the walk
Then they heckled and laughed like fools.
“Listen to her curse”, they scoffed
And it’s said prior too she wasn’t this way
Considerate and caring so they’ve heard
And a beauty in a happier day.
“Before you go I have a tale
Listen to me please, the old woman asked.
They cried aloud, “Well why not old lady”
But hurry up or we will pass”.
“I was beautiful in my day
About your age I would say
And I didn’t want for love or money
And I didn’t care like you today”.
“It's then I had no respect for any other
I then lost all respect for myself
Only to lose all faith in my God
And I was to blame just like yourselves.”
“Now I search just for lost souls
And you’ve heard me curse this is true
Could it be you now see this old lady
In each one of you?”
Brenda Elizabeth Rose
O sweet scarlet poppy how strong you do grow
The earth has no finer flower I know
I see you in fields by roadside or lay-bys
Your seed is taken wherever the wind cries
And where they fall they make their sweet bed
And remind us all of Our Glorious Dead
They were found scattered among Flanders field
Where young soldier’s lives gladly did yield
They speak of the horrors the hell of all war
The rivers of blood the guts and the gore
Sweet flower of the field your legacy goes on
A symbol war of young lives that are now gone
O scarlet flower of delicate red
Reminder of Our Glorious Dead
(Here in the UK poppies are worn every Armistice Day)
Cold hands, shaky breaths
Sir, do you shiver at night?
Sad smiles from passer-bys
Your dull eyes used to have light
But now you wish you were just blind
Demons in your head
Your bruises still red
Ma'am, what happened to your bed?
Ripped clothes, dry throats
These roads aren't just roads
These stains on the streets
Aren't just stains anymore
Kid, do you feel your heart crumbling?
Because there are people out there
Who don't have four walls they can call home
Kid, do you think they deserve this?
Because I definitely don't.
May, 2015.
M.K.
anniversary, bird, change, courage, immigration, mystery, sky,
'Geese' Hiaku: 'Ode to the Canadian Goose'!
Canada’s Geese © HAIKU
All Northern Geese ‘crop’
Seasonal tour ‘reruns’ twice!
Returning again!
Flag-poled Staff © HAIKU
Two pilots each tour
One Canadian goose ‘flagpoles’
Two tails split ends!
Canada Geese Fly By! ©HAIKU
Touristic ‘fly-bys’
Soar far north in summer months
Down south in winter!
Canadian Geese © HAIKU
Arrow signs direct
Sky-masses of geese ‘elites’
Comings and goings!
Flights Yesteryear© HAIKU
Canadian Geese consent
To ‘v-shaped’ sky-tipped arrow points
Past’s learnt direction!
Canada Geese Tours © HAIKU
‘Fly-by' Geese Tourism
Northerner or Southerner
Two seasons a year!
Canadian Geese Vacation © HAIKU
Arrow signs direct
'V-trailing' geese to the sky
Masses 'enlist' onward!
Flights To Yesteryear© HAIKU
Canadian Geese mark
'V-shaped' (sky) tipped arrow-points
Aged-mapped destinies!
I met a little Welsh girl,
From a village called Southsea.
I had a BeeSA Thunderbolt,
That attracted her to me.
We rode around the country,
We rode around the lanes.
A lovely throbbing feeling,
But not much good for games
.
At night I’d ride my BSA,
To collect her from her home.
But then we’d go out in her car,
The country lanes to roam.
My lovely little Welsh lass,
Had a car with classic style.
This Anglia we drove about,
For many a happy mile.
The beauty of her little car,
Was clear when it was parked.
In lay bys, on the country lanes,
Quite often after dark!
I loved my BeeSA Thunderbolt,
My Welsh girl loved it too.
But the back seat of her Anglia,
Gave us both, much more to do!
I’ve now been married quite some time,
To the Welsh girl… not the car.
An Anglia has not been built,
That would ever go that far!
And I’ve spent many decades,
Still riding on that frame.
No not my cherished Thunderbolt,
For that was far too tame!
Ivor G Davies
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